Mudbloods and Matrimony
by MirriTandris
Summary: CHAPTER FOUR POSTED! The Marriage Law has been implemented, and Hermione is shocked by her assigned partner. Will love spring from this arrangement, or will their shared past stop any hope of that? DM/HG, post-Hogwarts, mostly EWE.
1. Article 394B

A/N: I'm not sure exactly how often this will be updated, but it's something that's been rattling around in my head for the past few weeks. Ultimately, I'm expecting this to be fairly short, at around 9-10 chapters. Mostly EWE, but has a few carryovers from the future shown.

Also, I promise that Into the Fade will be updated again. I just haven't really been feeling Dragon Age lately, so it's on a back burner for the time being.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I just play with the characters for my own amusement and the non-profitable amusement of others.

~**~

'_Dear Magical Resident,  
__Pursuant to Article 394B, Section 13R, Lines 19-42, the Assigned Marriage Law is now in effect for all unmarried witches and wizards. You shall receive further personalized correspondence with your partner's information and your wedding date once your partner has been selected.  
__Please note, effective as of today,Tuesday, January 24th, 2006, no marriage licenses will be issued to those wishing to avoid their match.  
__Sincerely,  
__Griselda Hornbeck  
__Department of Wizarding Affairs  
__Ministry of Magic'_

Hermione groaned. Her fiance, Ron Weasley, was still gawping at the letter as he read over her shoulder.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, before turning his attention to her, "I mean, though, we're already together. That has to count for something, right?"

Hermione shrugged in response, "I certainly hope so."

"I'll tell you one thing, though. Mum's going to be hopping mad if we aren't matched. She's been planning our wedding since third year, and Dad's really been looking forward to having muggle in-laws that he can ask all his questions," Ron paused, "Speaking of, your parents do remember that we were together, right?"

It had been eight years since the end of the war, and Hermione had slowly but surely restored her mother and father's memories, though there were a few things - such as Hermione's relationship - that they were still a bit fuzzy on.

"_Oh, dear, when did you and Roland start dating? I thought you were with that nice boy...oh, what was his name? Vincent?"_

"_Viktor, mum. He and I broke up after my fourth year. And it's not Roland, it's Ron. We've been together since graduation"_

"_Oh, yes, Ron. I'm sorry, dear, I just haven't been thinking straight since your father and I came home from our vacation in Queensland. I think we may be due for another quite soon!"_

"Mum's still a little iffy. I don't know if you want my dad to remember."

Ron shuddered. He recalled Hermione's father's menacing advance the first time Hermione had introduced him as her boyfriend. They'd met a few times before Hermione had altered their memories, and Dr. Granger had been cordial, if not overly friendly, but once their memories were restored he had taken up an overprotective nature of his "little girl." No, if he was being honest with himself, the idea of Hermione's father remembering their involvement did not strike him as a positive situation.

"No, no. You're probably right."

Laughing, Hermione took his hand, dropping the parchment from the Ministry on the table. Neither of them wanted to think about it as she placed a gentle kiss on Ron's lips. They were a good pair. There was no reason that the Ministry would separate them. No reason at all.

~**~

"I've got to say, mate, you did the right thing marrying Ginny when you did," Ron said to Harry through a mouthful of shepherd's pie. He and Hermione had gone to the Burrow a week after receiving the news that the Marriage Law had come into effect to celebrate Arthur Weasley's birthday. Molly had fussed over the two of them, chiding them both for not marrying "while you still had the chance! Who knows who you two will end up with now!"

Harry grinned, rubbing his thumb over Ginny's hand. Their son, James, laughed riotously as Teddy changed his face to resemble a pig's, and then changed into a near-perfect clone of Ron at 7 that Molly had to do a double-take before she also chuckled, ruffling the mop of flaming red hair on Teddy's head before it changed back to its usual bright blue.

"I'm still rooting for you two to be assigned to each other," he responded, "There really isn't any reason you shouldn't be."

"Plus you're practically married already!" Ginny piped in, "You've been living together since before Harry and I married, and everyone in Gryffindor was betting on when you two would end up together."

"Really?" Hermione was a little shocked. She didn't realize how obvious the attraction between them had been at school.

"Oh yes. Tansy - you remember Tansy Barnes, right? - tried to bet me fifty galleons that you two would be snogging in corners by the end of third year. Neither of us even had fifty galleons between us, so we ignored that bet once you two just kept dancing around each other," Ginny grinned mischievously over at the pair, "She also convinced herself that you liked someone else anyway."

Hermione looked quizzically across the table at Ginny, "Who am I supposed to have liked?"

Ginny suddenly got very quiet, and became interested in swirling her peas and potatoes together.

"Ginny?"

The redhead was saved from having to answer by Molly coming out into the dining room again with a large cake that read "HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARTHUR!" in a vivid maroon script.

"Mum's obsessed with maroon," Ron muttered to Hermione, who had to stifle a snort of laughter.

Once the cake had been eaten and gifts exchanged (Mr. Weasley had been delighted with Hermione and Ron's gifts of a drinking bird and a lucky cat), everyone said their goodnights. Harry and Ginny, with James and Teddy in tow, took the floo back to their home in Godric's Hollow. Ron and Hermione hugged Mr. and Mrs. Weasley before apparating back to their flat on the outskirts of Diagon Alley. The two had barely settled in to watch a movie (a pastime that Hermione loved and Ron was coming around to) when several sharp raps echoed from the bay window in their dining room. Ron's face went a pasty white, making his freckles show in sharp relief.

"I don't want to get that."

Hermione sighed, understanding how nervous he was. It had been a week since the first letter had come - this was likely the follow-up that would dictate their futures.

"Together?" She asked, hoping that this would be what the letter revealed for them as well. Ron gulped, then nodded briskly. Hand in hand, they crossed into the dining room and opened the window, the panes swinging out and nearly hitting the two owls as they flew in and deposited two official-looking envelopes. Gingerly, she and Ron each picked up the letters addressed to them.

"Together?" Ron echoed her earlier question. Hermione could only nod, not trusting herself to speak. They each slid open their respective letter, and looked down at their future.

'_Dear Miss Granger,  
__After much deliberation, we have determined your life partner will be the following wizard:  
__DRACO MALFOY  
__Your wedding will take place in Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt's office on Tuesday, February 28th, 2006. Please arrive promptly at 8:30 A.M. with your wand ready for identification purposes.  
__Please note that no substitutions are allowed. This decision is final and is not able to be appealed. Please also note that a trace has been placed on your magic, and attempting to run from this arrangement will be punishable by up to ten years in Azkaban as well as a fine of 5,000 galleons.  
__Sincerely yours,  
__Griselda Hornbeck  
__Department of Wizarding Affairs  
__Ministry of Magic'_

"Hermione," Ron croaked. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. It wasn't fair! They'd been together for so long - for the full eight years since the end of the war! She clutched the letter, reading and rereading, willing that name to change, willing it to morph into RONALD WEASLEY. The more she looked, however, the more the words DRACO MALFOY burned into her mind. Out of everyone they could have chosen, why did it have to be him?

"Hermione," Ron's voice was cracking, and he sounded like he was also on the brink of tears, "We...we didn't get each other."

Hermione pulled him into a tight embrace, kissing him fiercely as she crumpled the parchment in her hand. She felt Ron begin to shake as she held him.

"Hermione...I...I can't," he breathed, pulling away from her kiss, "My wedding is...it's tomorrow. February 1st. To Lavender."

He disentangled himself, "I think I'm going to go back to the Burrow. I don't think I can risk staying here, or I really will try to get out of this marriage."

Ron strode to the fireplace, before turning swiftly back around and placing a passionate kiss on Hermione's lips.

"I love you. Please remember that, always," he whispered, then walked back over to the fireplace and tossed in a handful of floo powder, "The Burrow!"

With a flash of green fire and a billowing curtain of smoke, Ron Weasley vanished from Hermione's life.


	2. That Hornbeck Skag

A/N: Name has been updated to a suggestion from a friend on Twitter (the original name was more of a placeholder). Title credit goes to **Onslaught1134**.  
This chapter does allude to a scene that is movie-only, but which I personally accept as canon. Also, I went with the book description of the Battle of Hogwarts, where Lavender's fate wasn't clear.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

True to Ron's prediction, Molly was up in arms about the split. Howlers arrived the morning of Ron's wedding to Lavender at the desks of Griselda Hornbeck, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and even poor Lavender, who, despite her infatuation with Ron in their sixth year, was not wholly looking forward to being married to him. Hermione, meanwhile, got a long, sympathetic letter that almost made her feel even worse than she already did.

It was, of course, all to no avail. At 9:26 A.M. on February 1st, 2006, Lavender Brown became Lavender Weasley in the office of Kingsley Shacklebolt. The ceremony had been private, with only Harry and Parvati as witnesses. Ron hadn't invited Hermione, and she was glad for it. She doubted she would invite him to her dreaded upcoming nuptials, and was certain he would also be glad for that.

She shuddered. Malfoy. She would be marrying Draco Malfoy, the ferret of Slytherin and the antagonist of her Hogwarts days. What kind of awful karma was this anyway?

Come to think of it, though, Hermione hadn't seen hide nor hair of Malfoy since the end of the war, when he ran away from Hogwarts with his parents. They had been officially pardoned by Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Draco had been awarded an Order of Merlin, Third Class - _in absentia_, of course. No one had seen any of the Malfoys since the end of the war, and Rita Skeeter had published a series of articles in the Daily Prophet claiming anything from the family had been murdered by surviving, uncaptured Death Eaters for abandoning He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in his hour of need, having lost their memories and now living as muggles in Majorca, or hiding in Albania attempting to resurrect Voldemort despite their apparent desertion at the Battle of Hogwarts. All anyone knew, though, was that the Malfoys were nowhere to be found, and that Malfoy Manor stood abandoned in Wiltshire, and that Malfoy Industries were somehow still running smoothly in the heart of downtown London.

Hermione, despite herself, had subscribed to the "Malfoys are dead" school of thought until her assigned partner's identity had arrived the previous evening. Even stranger, she wasn't upset to be wrong - on the contrary, she felt a twinge of something that almost resembled joy that Draco, at least, was still alive.

Not that she was _happy_, of course. It was just that Draco didn't deserve to die so young. Perhaps grievously maimed, imprisoned, obliviated...but not dead.

Unlike Ron, she had a full month before the wedding to prepare. In the back of her mind, she wondered if this was because he would need to travel extensively to return in time for their...appointment on February 28th, or if she had simply done something horrible to Griselda Hornbeck in a previous life that was now making her take sadistic pleasure in torturing Hermione. At this point, either option was viable.

_Tap-tap-tap_

Hermione looked up, and smiled sadly as she saw Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, sitting on the sill of her dining room window. She stood and walked over, letting him in and giving him a couple of the treats she kept in her pantry. He hooted happily, dropping a scrap of parchment with Ron's untidy scrawl onto her table before flying back out into the darkening sky.

Puzzled, she unfolded the note. Ron hadn't bothered to put it in an envelope, and it looked like he had simply torn the corner off a sheaf of parchment.

'_Mione,  
__I don't have much time to write this. Calls of "Won-Won" are coming from the other side of the Burrow. Mum's pissed - I don't think she's ever liked Lavender. I miss you. I'm sorry I couldn't commit sooner. Not sure how much I can write about this, but there's more than just the Marriage Law in play -'_

The ink had bled for the next couple of lines, making them illegible.

'_Damn. Kingsley warned me that might happen. This is all that Hornbeck skag's idea. He'll explain it at your ceremony.  
__I'm sorry. I love you.  
__Ron'_

_What _was Hornbeck's idea, beyond the Marriage Law? Whatever it was, it couldn't be a positive development. Hermione refolded the parchment and placed it in her desk drawer.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was not dead - nowhere near it, in fact. Rather, he was stretched languidly on the Forno Beach in Brazil, feeling the sun beat down on his pale skin and relishing being magically protected from sunburns. He was enjoying a long overdue vacation after concluding a business deal to acquire and distribute a new line of blemish removal potions from Bilius Finbok. The man had driven a hard bargain, and walked away with pockets much fatter than Draco would have liked. Running Malfoy Industries was much harder without Lucius at the helm, but both his parents had chosen to retire to Saint-Tropez, where they had built a home at the cove of L'Escalet Beach, and rarely accepted visits from even their own son. Hence, he sighed, why he found himself here when the Ministry owl had shown up.

'_Mr. Malfoy,  
__Please note that we have attempted to reach you at your home in Oxfordshire with no success. Following up with your employee, Dennis Creevey, at Malfoy Industries, we have learned that you are on a month-long vacation in South America. We do hope this is a pleasant experience for you. As such, we have delayed your wedding to the end of February. Please arrive at the office of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, on the 28th of February 2006. Your wand will be needed for identification purposes.  
__You should recall that your assigned partner is:  
__HERMIONE GRANGER  
__Please be aware that any attempts to avoid this partnership will result in a heavy fine and up to 10 years in Azkaban. This arrangement is non-negotiable.  
__Have a pleasant day.  
__Sincerely yours,  
__Griselda Hornbeck  
__Department of Wizarding Affairs  
__Ministry of Magic'_

Of course it was Granger. He'd seen her briefly at the Battle of Hogwarts, and had heard that she had accepted his Order of Merlin during the ceremony. How kind. How utterly _Gryffindor_ of her.

To be honest, he was surprised that she wasn't married to Weasley already. The two had been paired up for years before now, and he'd seen the announcement in the Daily Prophet of their engagement six years prior.

"Guess that went about as well as a lead broomstick," Draco muttered, smiling a bit, "His loss is my gain, though."

_It had been the end of his first year when he'd really taken note of her. He had received top marks in all his classes, and still she somehow had marks higher than his, earning a 112% on their Charms final - he'd only received 105%. He'd spent the whole summer complaining to his father, and was aggravated when his father, instead of showing sympathy, berated him for letting a mudblood like Granger receive higher marks._

_He'd gotten his revenge, of course, tearing a page from a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them on the monster that would be turned loose in the school that year. He knew that the Heir of Slytherin - whoever that was - would likely go after Hermione, given her muggleborn status. He might not be able to stop what was going to happen, but he could at least point the Golden Trio in the right direction; however, as the attacks increased, Hermione continued to not select the correct book where he'd stored the page on the Basilisk. His frustration hit a breaking point when she and that Ravenclaw...Persephone? Whatever. When the two of them were stunned, Draco went back to the library and snuck the page back out of __The Dark Arts Outsmarted__ and snuck it into her clenched fist, after hastily writing the word "pipes" - his handwriting, he'd found, was startlingly similar to hers. Maybe now Potter or Weasley would notice it, though he doubted it if even the 'Brightest Witch of the Age' couldn't find it in what should have been the most obvious place to search for it. They had, of course. He'd stopped back in after bullying a sixth year into casting a Disillusionment charm on him towards the end of the school year. About time these bloody fools figured it out. When she came barrelling into the Great Hall the last week of term, he couldn't help a small smile of relief, though he immediately played it off with Crabbe and Goyle that he knew it would just cause more problems for the school if any of the mudbloods had actually died and that he, for one, wanted a proper education._

_He'd been mortified in third year, when that foul bird had slashed open his arm. He'd been asking for it, really, but did it really have to be in front of her? It hadn't been lost on him, either, that she had been the one to run and open the gate while that great oaf Hagrid had run faster than he'd thought imaginable to bring him to the hospital wing. He'd done what he could to avoid her afterwards, but he'd been talking a little too loudly about that monster's execution and she'd hauled off and slapped him straight across the face, looking fit to beat him bloody if Potter and Weasley hadn't caught up to her and held her back. He hadn't reported the incident. He wasn't sure if that was out of a desire to protect her, or just from the complete shame he felt at making Hermione so upset that she'd forgotten her wand and relied purely on brute force to shut him up._

Draco grumbled. Reminiscing about his days at Hogwarts was not what he was looking to do while on his vacation, even if the thoughts of Hermione Granger weren't as unpleasant as he'd tried to lead others to believe. Perhaps tried a bit too hard, even. He closed his eyes and settled back into his beach lounger. His vacation was already being cut short. There was no reason to focus on this any further right now.

* * *

"Ginny!" Hermione called into the little house in Godric's Hollow that Harry and Ginny called home. An excited squeal rang out and James Sirius Potter threw himself into her arms, knocking the air out of her lungs as his wild red hair stuck out from all angles, so much like his father's, "Oof! Hello, James. Is your mother home?"

Hermione had never been very good with children.

"Mommy!" He screeched, causing Hermione to wince.

"What, James? Oh! Hello, Hermione. How...how are you feeling?" Ginny looked slightly harried, as though she'd been dealing with toddler boy antics for a bit too long that day. Perhaps James had gotten into the sugar quills again?

"Can we go for a drink? I don't think I'm ready to tell anyone else, but I needed to at least tell someone," Hermione asked, putting James gently down onto the floor again. A grin spread over Ginny's face.

"Oh, yes. Let me just tell Harry," she replied, before turning back to the door she'd come from, "Harry!"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going out for a bit. The boys are _all yours_ for the next hour."

"What?"

"You heard me! You feed my toddler sugar quills, you get to deal with the fallout!"

An anguished cry came from the other room. If Hermione didn't know better, she would have thought it was exaggerated; however, seeing the toddler now running in circles around the leg of the dining room table and hearing the swooshing noises he was emitting made her believe every bit of the horror Harry felt with Ginny's pronouncement.

"You know, I guess I could come back later if now isn't a good time…" She started, but Ginny cut her off.

"Absolutely not. You're getting me the hell out of this house," she hissed, before apparating with Hermione to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Two firewhiskeys, please," Hermione said to the bartender, but Ginny jumped in.

"Make mine a gillywater, actually."

The bartender, a new hire by Hannah Abbott after she'd taken over the pub, smiled and nodded, bringing the two witches their drinks.

"What's going on, Ginny? I've never known you to reject a firewhiskey," Hermione looked puzzled at her friend.

"Well, I can't exactly drink right now, if you know what I mean," she replied with a sly smile.

"Oh! That's...wonderful, right?" Hermione really wasn't great with children. Ginny just laughed.

"Of course it is. But that's not what we came here to talk about, now is it?"

Hermione sighed. Now that they were here, she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to talk. She wracked through her brain, trying to think of something, anything else to distract her friend.

"So, Lavender? I thought she had died at the Battle of Hogwarts."

Not the ideal topic, given how she still felt for Lavender's new husband and her own now-ex-boyfriend of six days. She cringed.

"Oh, so did I, actually. Harry says that she's not looking too well, either. Walks with a cane now - apparently that fall from the balcony did a lot of damage to her spine that St. Mungo's couldn't fix."

Hermione didn't like Lavender much, but a shot of pity still ran through her at Ginny's words. It could have been much worse if Fenrir had been allowed to get to her, though.

"I'm glad she survived, at least. Too many people died that day."

Ginny nodded, staring intently at Hermione. She knew that there was something Hermione wanted to say, but the woman wasn't coming clean. It was really starting to piss her off.

"Hermione, you know I can't leave Harry alone too long with James. He'll just feed him more sugar quills to get revenge for me leaving him alone now. So, out with it."

Straight to the point. That's what Hermione loved about Ginny. No dancing around the topic at all...unlike her. She took a deep breath and then, almost too fast to be understood, she came out with it.

"I'msupposedtomarryDracoMalfoy."

"...Pardon?"

"I'm...supposed to marry Draco Malfoy."


	3. Why Didn't They Consider The Explosions?

A/N: Thank you for the follows, favorites, and reviews! They mean a lot, especially as I get back into the flow of fanfic writing. I'm sorry this chapter took a bit longer than expected to get out - work has been picking up again, so I may be a bit slower to update for the next few weeks. As a note, when there are differences between the books and movies, I tend to err on the side of the books.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related entities belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm just here having non-profitable fun at their expense.

* * *

"You're joking."

Hermione groaned, holding her face in her hands, "Does it look like I'm laughing?"

Ginny, however, couldn't help a small giggle.

"You know, I may actually have to pay Tansy those fifty galleons after all," Ginny's face suddenly scrunched up and she whacked Hermione's arm, "I was so close to winning that bet! All you had to do was marry Ron!" Ginny took note of Hermione's upset look and sighed, "Not that I'm blaming you. I know Ron can be a right git with commitment. Come on. Another firewhiskey and you'll be good as new."

Ginny motioned her order to the bartender, who nodded and brought over two more bottles - gillywater for Ginny, and firewhiskey for Hermione.

"Yeah, maybe I'll drink enough to get alcohol poisoning and die. Can't get married if I'm dead," Hermione grumbled into her bottle, "Anyway, I thought you said that you and Tansy called off that fifty galleon bet."

"Twit reinstated it when I married Harry. She decided that I had the galleons to pay her when I lost now," Ginny sighed, "I thought it would be an easy fifty for me and I could rub her face in it."

"Sorry it didn't work out for you," Hermione muttered, a little more sourly than she intended, taking another swig of her firewhiskey.

"Oh, don't be like that. It's only because Tansy convinced herself that you were in love with Malfoy in the first place that we called off the bet back in our third year."

"W-what?" Hermione spluttered, having just spat out a mouthful of firewhiskey.

"Oh, yeah, real attractive there, Granger," Ginny laughed, "Tansy went to the Yule Ball with - can you believe this? - Cormac McLaggen -"

"Oh no, that poor girl."

"And she saw how Draco reacted to you in your dress robes. That man has had it bad for you for a long time," Ginny giggled, "Apparently Tansy got matched with McLaggen, too. She sent me a wedding invitation, bless her. I don't have the heart to turn her down, but I think she's going to make me pay up. It's tomorrow, would you like to be my plus-one?"

"What about Harry?"

"Acting as a witness for Luna and Seamus. Now there's a match if I ever heard one - I'm surprised no one thought about the explosions!" By now, irritation and worry forgotten in Hermione's tipsy haze, the pair found themselves doubled over on their seats in a fit of giggles. The bartender shook his head, making a mental note to cut off the two from further drinks.

Hermione left Ginny in significantly higher spirits, but her mood came crashing down once she got back to her flat and saw a haughty eagle owl perched on her windowsill, clearly impatient.

Can owls look impatient?

Given that eagle owls were uncommon, not being native to Great Britain, she didn't have a hard time guessing where this one had come from. She remembered it swooping into the Great Hall in the mornings and depositing care packages at the Slytherin table.

"What on earth does _Malfoy_ want?"

She took the envelope that was tied around the owl's legs as it looked on disdainfully. Just like a Malfoy, she thought. Fingers trembling, she opened the letter and read:

'_Granger,  
__You sure know how to ruin a perfectly good vacation. Here I am in Brazil at one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, and what does the bloody Ministry toss on me?  
__You, that's what.  
__I was, in fact, planning to stay here until summer actually came to London - not that it ever does, it seems, but I suppose I could dream. Now, of course, I'll have to come back in ruddy winter to marry someone who obviously does not wish to marry me.  
__Honestly, if Azkaban weren't so bloody terrible, I might pay the fine for us both and risk it.  
__As it is, I will see you on February 28th. Try not to hex me.  
__Draco  
__P.S. You can keep Bubo until I get there.  
__P.P.S. His name is Latin. Don't laugh.'_

"Why does he make the lack of desire to get married sound one-sided?" Hermione muttered, rereading the letter, then looking at the owl, "I guess you're stuck here with me, so you could at least try to look a little more pleasant."

Bubo ruffled his feathers in disgust and flew off to settle into the large oak tree that overshadowed her flat.

Typical.

* * *

Draco had wondered if owling her was the proper way to go about making her slightly more comfortable with the idea of marriage. He'd be lying if he told himself that he was disappointed with the Ministry's choice of a wife, mud - muggle-born status notwithstanding - and he hoped that it came across to her in his letter, without being too obvious that he'd felt far more enamored of her than she clearly was of him for several years now.

_It had started at the Yule Ball - at least, that's the first time he recognized what he felt. She'd walked in with Krum, and he knew his jaw must be hanging barely an inch above the floor. He wouldn't have recognized her if she hadn't given Potter a broad grin (he couldn't even tell that he'd cursed her teeth not even two weeks ago) and a small wave, and Weasley an uncharacteristically dirty look. Were they fighting again? He couldn't help but hope so.  
__Her normally bushy hair had been tamed - she must have used an entire bottle of Sleek-eazy's to get those soft curls out of the rat's nest. Rat's nest? How could he have been so cruel? Her hair was lovely, and he knew from his visit to her in the Hospital Wing after she'd been petrified that it was much softer than it looked - not that he'd ever admit that to anyone.  
__Her makeup was subtle - clearly her own work, rather than the work of the girls she shared a dormitory with. What were their names? Pate and Braun? Eh, whatever. The silver she'd added to her eyeshadow paired perfectly with her periwinkle dress robes, and...Merlin, her coral lipstick made her mouth look inviting. He knew one thing: he'd rather have her on his arm tonight instead of…  
_"_Blue really isn't her color, is it Drakey?" Pansy whispered in his ear, clearly grumpy that he was so awestruck.  
_"_I...I don't know. She looks passable, for a mudblood, anyway."  
_"_Hmph. Passable," she muttered, "I'm going to go get us some pumpkin juice. Find a table."  
__Draco wasn't fond of being ordered around. He dealt with that enough from his father. But, like the top-notch date he intended to be - he had a reputation to uphold, after all - he found a table close to where he'd seen Granger put her clutch before going to dance the Champion's Dance with Krum. Not close enough to raise suspicion, but close enough to keep an eye on her throughout the evening.  
__He'd managed to dance near her a few times that night, and was working up the courage (something Gryffindors had in spades, but Slytherins were sadly lacking) to ask her to dance once Pansy left to use to loo. Wouldn't you know it, though, just as Pansy left, Granger and Weasley got into a row that was audible throughout the Great Hall, and he didn't see her for the rest of the night.  
__Leave it to Weasley to ruin everything. All Draco wanted was one effing dance._

"S...Senhor Malfoy?"

Interrupted from his reverie, Draco spun around to see a wiry young man, nervously shifting back and forth.

"Yes?"

"You...you have a message waiting in the Floo. Will you follow me, please?"

Draco groaned. He was supposed to be on vacation!

"I'm supposed to be on vacation. Tell whoever it is to bugger off."

"Senhor, I know this is an inconvenience, but they said it was very urgent!"

"What can be more urgent than my enjoyment and leisure?"

"Senhor...it is a Senhora Hornbeck."

_Merlin's beard_, Draco thought, _wasn't two letters enough to get the message across?_

Sighing, Draco stood and followed the porter back to the hotel, his beach towel forgotten and his mood decidedly soured.

In the fireplace was the head of a middle-aged woman, her brown hair pulled back severely and her makeup slightly too heavy to be really attractive.

"Mr. Malfoy, I've sent you two owls! You have not responded to confirm when you will be returning. We cannot delay your wedding any further. The decree is that all marriages must be completed by the end of this month!" Hornbeck's voice was shrill. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Are all parties required to respond to their letters?"

"Well...no. But you can see why we're having you respond, can't you?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, up until your meeting with Mr. Finbok, no one realized you were still alive. We had to track you down, and...well, you do have the money to try to get out of this, if you didn't mind Azkaban."

"Oh, Ms. Hornbeck, I have no intention of getting out of this."

"Oh, excellent. Then I will need you to come back with me to the Ministry."

"What, now?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. The sooner we can take care of this, the better."

And that was how, not even ten minutes after having received his letter, Hermione opened the door to reveal Draco Malfoy on her front porch.


	4. Who Needs Seven Living Rooms?

A/N: Thanks to SavageGrace for the Dramione Daily shout-out! If you found my story through that, thank you for sticking around, especially with this long wait!  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related entities are owned by J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing with them for my own non-profitable amusement.

* * *

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

"Oh good, you're not hexing me. I guess you did get my letter then. Where's Bubo?"

A _hoot_ echoed from the tree behind Malfoy where the eagle owl had taken up residence.

"Ah. There he is. Sorry, he can be a bit temperamental."

"A bit?" Hermione said mildly, "I swear, he looked like he wanted to peck my eyes out when he arrived...fifteen minutes ago. What happened to my two weeks of respite before having to marry you?"

Draco was annoyed, "Yes, Granger, I'm doing well these days. My parents have retired to France, and I was vacationing in Brazil. And you? How have you been? It's so nice to catch up at last after all this time."

Perhaps he was a bit more sarcastic than he meant to be. But she hadn't even said hello, so he definitely felt at least a little entitled.

"Oh? Was Brazil nice?"

"Peachy. It's like I can still feel the sand in my shoes following an abrupt departure at the whim of that Hornbeck hag," Draco sulked. He was grumpy now - clearly Hermione, as expected, was none too keen on becoming his blushing bride.

A mental image of her blushing in a wedding dress came to him, and he snorted with laughter.

"Oh, good. Mood swings. Anything else I need to look forward to with our wedded bliss?"

Was it her imagination, or was there the ghost of a smirk on his face?

"Well, Granger, for one thing...you can look forward to surprises. Like the surprise that we're actually getting married in two days, rather than two weeks."

Hermione experienced something she had no living memory of ever having felt. Her mind, normally so active, went blank.

"Two days?"

"Yes, do try to keep up."

"But..._why_?"

"I guess to make sure I don't try to hide out in Brazil for the rest of my life. Not that I was planning to. Brazil gets a little too warm for my tastes."

Hermione made a mental note to turn up her thermostat, energy costs be damned.

"Anyway, can I come in?"

"Oh...alright, I suppose you _may_ come in," Hermione responded, rolling her eyes and stepping aside.

"Grammar corrections! You haven't changed a bit," Draco smirked, tapping her nose and laughing at her subsequent horrified expression, and stepped over the threshold into her flat.

"This is it?"

He'd turned around in the center of her living room, his face falling. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Well, _excuse me_ for not having four living rooms and six dining rooms."

"Actually, the Manor has seven living rooms, thank you."

"Who needs that many living rooms, Malfoy?"

He just shrugged.

* * *

"Miss Granger! I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow," Kingsley Shacklebolt greeted Hermione, his voice smooth and deep.

"Hello, Minister," Hermione's smile was somewhat forced. While the Marriage Law had been the brainchild of Hornbeck, Kingsley still had to approve it before it passed - and he had. Kingsley, sensing her frostiness, sighed.

"I'll explain everything to you tomorrow morning. There's more to this than you think."

Hermione looked at Kingsley. His normally broad smile had been replaced with a somber expression, and his dark eyes were tired. She nodded tersely and moved to go with Ginny into the Minister's office.

"Ah, Miss Granger, Mrs. Potter, not yet. There are some sensitive issues that need to be discussed with Mr. McLaggen and Miss Tribble," Kingsley said, giving Hermione a significant look.

"Why all the secrecy, Kingsley?"

"Please believe me, Miss Granger. If I could tell you today, I would. You'll find out tomorrow morning. Now, please wait here with Miss...er, Mrs. Potter, and I will come fetch you both once I've had a chance to speak with Mr. McLaggen and Miss Tribble."

Before Hermione had a chance to respond, Kingsley had turned on his heel and strode back into his office, shutting the door behind him. Ginny tried to touch the door, but found her hand repelled.

"Impervious charm. Shame. I was hoping to find out what the big secret was," she sighed, pulling out a pair of Extendable Ears from the pocket of her robes.

"I thought George stopped making those years ago."

"What, did you think I'd throw this out? How else do you think I know when Harry's the one who gives James sugar quills, rather than that little hellion stealing them?"

Hermione paused.

"Motherly intuition?"

Ginny just laughed.

A few more minutes passed with the two friends chatting before the door to Kingsley's office opened again.

"Granger! Good to see you again, my dear," McLaggen's voice boomed as soon as he saw her. Struggling not to roll her eyes, Hermione gave the older former Gryffindor a small smile (which was really more of a grimace) and a wave.

"Hello, Cormac. Congratulations on your wedding."

"Yes, she is beautiful, isn't she? Not as much as you, of course, but I suppose even I can't be as good as Malfoy. What on earth possessed Hornbeck to match the two of you instead of the two of us, though, I'm sure I'll never understand."

"Appalling," Hermione had meant this as a response to Cormac's arrogance, but he took it as agreement.

"Quite. We would be a powerful pair. Think of everything you could achieve with me as your guidance - I do have several large investments and would be more than willing to fund your little projects, though I'm not as wealthy as Malfoy, of course."

"_Hem-hem_!"

Hermione whipped around. Ginny, standing next to a blonde woman, was looking at Cormac carrying on, oblivious to Hermione's growing discomfort and disgust.

"You are entirely too good at that, Ginny."

"Cormac? You realize I'm standing right here, yes?"

"Oh, Tansy, how could I forget? But I haven't seen Granger since Hogwarts - you can't fault me for wanting to catch up a bit, can you?"

"I can when you're practically drooling over her."

"I think that's real drool, Tansy."

Growing red in the face, Cormac stomped over to Tansy in a huff. Hermione, relieved, moved to stand next to Ginny.

"Remind me why I let you talk me into this again?" She muttered to the redhead.

"Curiosity, and it gets you out of your flat. I can't believe Malfoy showed up! What did you end up doing with him last night?"

"Nothing. I invited him in and sent him fairly immediately to the guest bedroom. I didn't see him again afterwards."

"Probably sulking. Git."

"It wouldn't surprise me. He asked me why I only had one living room."

"What? How many living rooms does a person need?"

"Apparently the Manor has seven."

"Who in their right mind needs _seven_ living rooms?"

Hermione shrugged, and the two looked back over at Kingsley, Cormac, and Tansy. The bride and groom were drinking from a silver goblet, and a hint of spearmint wafted to Hermione's nose.

"Cormac must have really focused on brushing this morning," Hermione thought to herself.

"It is complete. Mr. McLaggen, Miss Tribble, I now pronounce you man and wife," Kingsley rumbled. Cormac swept Tansy into his arms, kissing her with a fierce passion before disapparating with his new wife.

"Looks like they'll be very happy together. And she didn't even try to make me pay her the fifty galleons!" Ginny grinned, clearly pleased at her friend's oversight.

"Miss Granger, Mrs. Potter, I just need your signatures on their license before it becomes official. If you don't mind?" Kingsley had walked over to them, his face slightly drawn and his dark eyes tired.

The two women signed the license, their signatures glowing brightly on the page before settling into their inky black color.

"Thank you. Miss Granger, I'll see you tomorrow morning. Eight o'clock, bright and early. You and Mr. Malfoy will be my first ceremony of the day. Have you decided on your witnesses?"

"It'll be me and Harry, Minister," Ginny chimed in.

"Excellent. Then I'll be seeing you both tomorrow, Miss Granger, Mrs. Potter. Have a good afternoon."

Sensing their dismissal, Hermione and Ginny left Kingsley's office.

"Want to come over for tea?" Ginny asked.

"I can't, Gin, I'm sorry. I need to make sure Malfoy hasn't burned my flat to the ground."

"Understandable. I'll see you tomorrow morning?"

"Well, if my flat is still in one piece, you, Harry, and the boys are welcome to come for dinner tonight. It would be nice to have company that I'm not afraid will hex me if I turn my back."

"Dinner it is, then."

* * *

Hermione stood in horror as she looked around her flat.

"What did you do, Malfoy?"

"Painted," he shrugged, "Figured the place could use a bit of color."

And color there was. Hermione's formerly pristine white walls in her living room were now a garish shade of neon green, with the ceiling painted a hot pink. Large pus-yellow circles were drawn along both wall and ceiling, and navy blue stripes were placed - horizontally - along the walls. It was like the Hogwarts colors had thrown up in her living room. Worst of all, her extraordinarily comfortable couch had paint splattered all over it, with further dark red paint spelling out the words "CAUTION: WET PAINT" on the upholstery.

"And...and is this sort of thing the kind of surprise I can expect from being married to you?"

"Don't you like it? I think it really brightens up the room. I've got my room painted, too!"

Hermione paled, "Did you paint anywhere else?"

"Well, I was about to start on the hallway when you got here, so no. Just these two."

Hermione nodded slowly, feeling a headache start throbbing in her temples.

"While I _appreciate_ the gesture, Malfoy, it would be best if we discussed future home decoration together," she grit out between her teeth, forcing an even more uncomfortable smile than the one she'd given McLaggen earlier, before pointing her wand at the couch, "_Scourgify_!"

Instantly, the couch was back to its simple beige, and Hermione sank down onto it, looking around at the hideous walls.

"I was about to do that," Malfoy said sulkily, sitting down at the other end of the couch.

"Thank you, Malfoy, but it clearly wasn't necessary."

"I'm just trying to help," he grumbled.

Hermione sighed, "Alright, fine, but next time choose colors that don't look like...that." After a pause, she added, "I like purple."

"Noted."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for being so patient with me, everyone! I've just finished a huge work project, so I should have time to write again now!


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